Alfir
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022 Ash Tasting
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 10:17:13 +0000 UTCI crouched and ran my fingers through the scorched earth where my Heavenly Punishment had struck. The once-solid ground had turned to fine, dark ash, exuding a faint scent of cinder and metal. It reminded me of molten iron in a forge. I scooped up a handful, letting it slip between my fingers. The texture was… too refined, unnatural for mere dirt that had existed moments ago.
Jiang Zhen, ever the meddler, leaned in and took a pinch of the ash. Instead of merely inspecting it, he did the unthinkable—he smeared it on his tongue.
I pointed offhandedly. “If you wish to touch grass, there’s plenty over there.”
He ignored me, rubbing the ash between his fingers before tasting another pinch. His brows furrowed in thought. “Thunder Sand? Just by technique alone, you refined mundane dirt into a spiritual resource?” He exhaled in disbelief. “Just how deep is your cultivation, fellow Daoist?”
I grimaced. “Yuck… I’d rather you treat me as you used to, Changcheng.”
His eye twitched. “I told you, my name is—Never mind. At this point, I should be calling you senior. Perhaps even grand uncle.”
I crossed my arms. “I am not your grand uncle. And can you stop eating ash?”
He smacked his lips as if savoring fine wine. “Since you refuse to reveal your cultivation, I’ll just have to deduce it from this.” Then, to my growing horror, he took an entire mouthful of the ashen dirt and chewed.
I watched in stunned silence.
Jiang Zhen hummed, nodding to himself. “I taste Buddhist principles interwoven with exorcism methods. Interesting… very interesting.”
I wished I could taste principles. Perhaps if I had that talent in my past life, I could have devoured a few textbooks and spared myself years of tedious study. But no amount of musing would help me understand how this technique affected my combat style. Clearly, what worked in a game’s system didn’t necessarily translate into this chaotic world, where reality twisted according to will and enlightenment.
My gaze returned to Jiang Zhen, who was still chewing the ashen remains of my attack as if savoring a rare delicacy. I sighed. “So… how exactly did you evade my Heavenly Punishment?”
Jiang Zhen frowned at the name, his expression turning serious. “What kind of deluded fool names their technique Heavenly Punishment?”
I blinked. “Uh… me?” Correction: the game developers did.
Jiang Zhen clicked his tongue, ready to scold me further—then hesitated. His brows furrowed as he reconsidered. “Hmmm… actually, never mind. That was damn near a heavenly punishment.”
“Damn right, it was.” I gestured at the wasteland my attack had left behind. “Now stop dodging the question. How did you survive that? You didn’t just tank it, did you?”
Jiang Zhen let out a self-satisfied huff. “It was a beginner technique. Every disciple of the Isolation Path Sect learns it.”
That was a useful clue. So, he was from the Isolation Path Sect? Perhaps even an Elder?
I waited for the punchline. “…A beginner technique?”
“Yes.”
I rubbed my temples. “A beginner technique let you dodge my strongest single-target ultimate skill?”
He shrugged. “It’s versatile, easy to learn, and an exceptionally useful life-saving art.”
I stared at him harder.
He scratched his cheek, looking a little sheepish. “Though, to be fair, I’ve never quite used it the way I just did.”
“…What do you mean?”
Jiang Zhen cleared his throat. “Well, I… ah… traversed a few kilometers underground to avoid your attack.”
I nearly choked on my own breath. “You what?”
He gestured vaguely at the ground. “Once I realized I couldn’t evade your technique normally, I burrowed as deep as I could. Kept going until I was certain I was beyond its reach.”
I had no words.
Kilometers underground? Just to dodge an attack? That wasn’t evasion—that was geological migration!
In Lost Legends Online, no player could pull off something this absurd. Maybe a Geomancer could attempt something similar, but even then, they’d be shackled by mana costs, terrain resistance, and skill limitations.
But here?
This ridiculous burial technique was just a beginner skill.
I exhaled slowly, still struggling to wrap my head around the absurdity of it all. “Alright… so how is this technique normally used?”
Jiang Zhen smirked and held up a finger. “A question for a question.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Can I take this Thunder Sand? Some disciples in my sect would find it useful.”
The darkened sand still crackled faintly with residual energy, my Heavenly Punishment having refined mundane dirt into something more. I wasn’t attached to it, and I certainly wasn’t going to eat it.
“Fine. Take it.”
Jiang Zhen grinned. Then, to my utter horror, he reached into his mouth and pulled out a storage ring.
I took a step back. “What the hell—”
He slipped the ring onto his finger with practiced ease. “What? You don’t store your valuables in your mouth?”
“No, because I’m not insane.”
Ignoring me, Jiang Zhen activated his ring. A flash of light—then a shovel appeared in his hands. But instead of using it like a normal person, he did something far more absurd.
He thrust the shovel into the ground—once, cleanly.
And just like that, a chunk of Thunder Sand vanished, as if the world itself had swallowed it whole.
Again. Thrust. Vanish. Thrust. Vanish.
The sand wasn’t piling up anywhere. It wasn’t being physically shoveled. It simply ceased to exist, likely transported straight into his storage ring.
I crossed my arms. “That’s not how shovels work.”
Jiang Zhen chuckled. “That’s not how reality works either, yet here we are.”
I exhaled. “So? How did you do it? Digging?”
Still scooping away, he explained, “The technique isn’t widely known, but it’s compulsory for disciples of the Isolation Path Sect. Simple to learn, difficult to master.”
Another section of Thunder Sand vanished into his ring.
“And what exactly does this beginner technique do?”
“For most, it allows them to burrow, hide underground, move beneath the surface, even entomb their foes.” He flicked me a glance. “I used it to escape downward. Quite the zigzag journey, given the varied density of the earth.”
That gave me pause. “Wait… you didn’t just phase through the ground?”
Jiang Zhen scoffed. “Of course not. I physically traveled downward. Had to navigate past obstacles, too. If anyone else attempted it, they’d likely be crushed between shifting rock, charred in a magma vein, have their qi thrown into disarray in a dragon vein, or suffer any number of unfortunate accidents.”
I frowned. “So you’re telling me this beginner skill requires advanced terrain awareness just to avoid dying?”
Jiang Zhen grinned. “Naturally. We are the Isolation Path Sect. Surviving what should be certain death is one of our core principles.”
That… sounded like a whole lot of not beginner-friendly to me.
To think Heavenly Punishment had such a loophole. If I put it in game terms, Jiang Zhen had basically exploited a bug. Another way to put it—he used gravity to increase his movement speed, phased through the floor, and dragged his hitbox as far away as possible, thus the sniper terrorist in the enemy camp was unable to get him.
“The sect’s founder was an undertaker,” Jiang Zhen continued, tossing another mouthful of Thunder Sand into his ring. “Took corpses, buried them. The original intent of this technique was for ceremonial funerals.”
I blinked. “So the grand life-saving art of your sect… was originally a grave-digging technique?”
“Exactly.” Jiang Zhen nodded. “A proper burial is an art, you know.”
That was far more information than I expected. Then again, maybe Jiang Zhen was just in a good mood after acquiring so much Thunder Sand.
Jiang Zhen made quick work of the scorched patch of dirt, shoveling away the Thunder Sand like he was born to dig. His movements were precise—almost mechanical—but I could tell he was still paying attention to me.
“What is your realm?” he asked.
I exhaled, resting my sword on my shoulder. “That’s… difficult to answer.”
Jiang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “Try me, Mr. Foreigner.”
Well, this was a golden opportunity. Reading books and asking around had only gotten me so far. Jiang Zhen was clearly a high-level cultivator—knowledgeable, experienced, and not stingy with his words. I might as well take advantage of this impromptu Q&A.
“From what I understand, cultivation has eleven realms, correct?”
Jiang Zhen nodded. “That’s the highest recorded in history, but yes.”
I continued, “Where I come from, the highest recorded level is 275.”
Jiang Zhen stopped digging. Turned to me. Stared.
“…Come again?”
“275.”
He scoffed. “You counted the stars, didn’t you? No need. Just tell me the major realms.”
That was a problem. Lost Legends Online technically had realm divisions, but they were vague and unreliable. Players never really cared about them since our Level Display made progression clear-cut.
I scratched my cheek. “I guess a good analogy would be… we only have minor realms. So the highest record from where I came from is Level 275.”
Jiang Zhen gave me a look that could only be described as What in the cosmic fuck?
“…Where are you even from?” he asked.
I waved a hand. “Horribly far away. I can’t even think of a way to go home.” Then, before he could fire another question, I smirked. “That aside, you asked two consecutive questions. My turn.”
Jiang Zhen huffed, clearly unsatisfied. “You didn’t even answer my question. What realm are you?”
I sighed. “Like I said, it’s complicated. Why don’t you educate me on these realms you keep talking about? You know, the ones I’m clearly and painfully unaware of.”
He crossed his arms, shovel resting against his shoulder. “Hmph… fine.” He eyed me like he was assessing just how clueless I truly was. “How much do you even know?”
I thought back to the scattered bits of information I’d picked up. “Until the Fourth Realm, give or take.”
Jiang Zhen nodded. “Then you’re in luck. I know up until the Sixth Realm.” He dusted off his robe, standing a little taller. “I, myself, am at the Fifth Realm—Soul Recognition.”
I blinked. That was… surprisingly open of him. I figured cultivators would be more secretive about their realms, or at least make me work for that kind of information.
Jiang Zhen continued, “It is achieved when one reaches enlightenment and catches a glimpse of the Dao.”
I nodded, digesting the information. “A glimpse of the Dao, huh…? Sounds deep.”
Jiang Zhen scoffed. “More than deep—it is the foundation of one’s future path. Without enlightenment, there is no true progression.”
Huh. That’s gonna be a problem…
I planned to take on cultivation, but I wasn’t exactly the brightest lad… Maybe I could brute-force it with stats? Nah, I’d probably cripple myself by accident.
Jiang Zhen kept digging, his movements precise and practiced. “And then comes the Sixth Realm—Essence Gathering.” His shovel struck the dirt, and another portion of Thunder Sand vanished into his storage ring. “The qi, elements, and power here in Riverfall Continent are thin. Most people are stuck at the Fifth Realm.”
I frowned. “That bad, huh?”
Jiang Zhen let out a tired sigh. “Bad is an understatement. I was hoping I could find a clue from you—maybe something that could help me advance without leaving the continent.” He shook his head. “Knowledge about cultivation beyond the Sixth Realm is scarce here. Because, frankly, Riverfall is a backwater.”
I hummed, pretending to think deeply. In reality, I was still trying to wrap my head around how my Level 275 Paladin self fit into their cultivation mold.
Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
Obviously, these realms had nothing to do with my old Lost Legends Online power system. If we had some kind of conversion chart, maybe I could’ve made a guess. But considering I didn’t, the best I could do was a vague, half-truth answer.
I shrugged. “I’m probably at the Sixth Realm.”
Jiang Zhen finally stopped digging, letting out a satisfied sigh as he dusted off his hands. “You might’ve just created a spiritual mineral vein.”
I blinked, then looked down. The sunken patch of earth he’d excavated pulsed with faint silver veins, slithering like living metal. They shimmered with power, reminding me of mana fissures from Lost Legends Online—except this wasn’t a game mechanic. This was real.
I turned back to Jiang Zhen. “You still owe me two questions.”
He shrugged. “Better save them for later. We should go. We’ve caused quite the commotion.”
From a distance, I saw cultivators streaking through the sky like shooting stars, flying atop their sword artifacts. Ah… right. That ridiculous light show of an ultimate skill. That definitely wasn’t subtle.
Before either of us could move, a familiar figure dropped from the sky, landing with a thunderclap.
Liang Na.
The Chief Enforcer of Yellow Dragon City stood tall in her black and gold robes, radiating authority. Her sharp eyes locked onto me, and she recited something that sounded suspiciously like this world’s version of Miranda rights.
“…And for destructive use of Qi-force, you are hereby placed under arrest.”
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
I turned to call for the old man—only to realize that Jiang Zhen had vanished.
…That damn old goat always had to get me with his petty mischief.
